Greendale Primer
by Rashaka
Summary: A series of gen/humor stories for the myriad characters and pairings. Main character listing will rotate. Chapter 6, Annie: "There's a knot in my chest." Her fingers drift to the collar of her hospital gown. "It's in my chest, right here, and it's sending out roots and when it's done I'm going to be a tree."
1. Blind-Blonde, Episode 1: ALERT RED

This will be a series of shorts for multiple pairings! Community Gen, if you will.

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As per **anonymous**'s request, here is a scene from the Abed TV's production **Blind/Blonde**, with the prompt "**Britta helps Annie on dates by giving her advice through a hidden ear piece**."

Greater context goes to Community episode writer Andy B., who suggested the plot on Twitter: Annie is a a surgeon, top of her class, and she's blind. Britta is also kind of a surgeon, not nearly the top of her class, and she's blonde. They're BFFs.

**NOTES**: This was written as a challenge, so... no judgment. It's late and I need sleep. I probably shouldn't even post this, but an archive is an archive.

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**Blind/Blonde**

**Episode 1: ALERT RED**

**.**

Her date with Ian Duncan, Professor at Greendale, is not as exciting as Annie hoped. He won't stop complaining about the terrible drivers who almost ran him off the road on his way to the restaurant, and even Britta's sarcastic commentary in Annie's hidden ear piece isn't enough to alleviate the mood.

Annie has begun to consider how to opt out of the meal entirely when her best friend starts panicking through the transmission.

_Approaching, approaching! Oh my god, I know him, Annie! Alert Green, ALERT GREEN!_

"Hi, good evening," says the stranger who stops at their table. He reaches out a long arm to shake the hand of Annie's date, then retracts it when he realizes awkwardly that Annie can't see the preferred gesture. Everyone else can see that he's fit and reasonably handsome, of an indeterminate age. The well-tailored suit accentuates his large shoulders, and charm oozes from every seem. He makes a point to loom over the restaurant table. Annie, of course, misses this subtlety, but Duncan does not.

"I'm Jeff Winger," the man says, a smile evident in his vocal inflections. "You two look like you're having a lovely dinner."

"I suppose?" says Annie.

"Can I help you?" says Duncan.

_Scum bucket! _says Britta.

Jeff is still smiling when he says, "Actually, you can. You see, I have a wager going with my friend over there." He waves one hand somewhere in the restaurant, all of which annoys Annie because phrases like 'over there' are less than useless in her case. "—that this was an online date. OK Cupid? E-Harmony?"

In Annie's ear, Britta furiously whispers: _I slept with this man once Annie, he's up to no good. All the women on his cell phone are listed under hair color and Foursquare location!_

"How we met is none of your business," snaps Duncan. He reaches out to put one hand over Annie's, and she almost jumps out of her seat when he caresses the underside of her wrist. "You're interrupting a very special evening between Angela and myself."

_Holy shit. Did he just call you Angela?_

"Zoosk," says Annie in a louder-than-necessary voice. She extracts her hand from Dunan's and sits up in her chair. "I'm Annie Edison. How much is the wager?"

_Uh, Annie, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Jeff Winger is sexier than Duncan, I guess even blind person can get that. But he's not appropriate man material. I bet they don't even allow him to register on dating websites because of over-use!_

Jeff ignores Duncan's indignant squawk, and says, "Fifty dollars and a beer, milady."

_Better ask him what kind of beer._

"My friend and I will need a taxi to get home," continues Annie.

Duncan tries to interrupt: "No we don't, I came in my Volvo."

"—so if you give me 25 dollars and give my friend the beer—"

_ALERT RED! ALERT RED! Don't bring me into this Annie, we slept together! He's gross! What if he remembers me? I can't let Jeff Winger pay for my alcohol!_

"I don't want a beer yet," insists Duncan across the table. "Not until we've had the chips."

"—then I'll help you with your wager, Mr. Winger."

"Done, Ms. Edison! Shake on it?"

Annie reaches her hand in the direction of his voice, ignoring the sound of Britta reprimanding her ear canal. Jeff's grip is large and strong, with long fingers that circle warmly over her palm.

_Don't be fooled by his moisturizer, Annie! Those are evil scum bucket hands!_

The frustration across the table reaches its event horizon, and Duncan pushes his chair out in a fumbling rush. "Okay, Amy, this date is over. You're the rudest bird I've met on Zoosk so far, and _not _as cute as your profile picture. Just because I'm a psychology teacher—professor!—doesn't mean I'm completely without my pride. You are undeserving of my exotic, foreign lovemaking."

He directs his voice to Jeff: "And you can keep the beer, you poncy giant, because I'm gonna chat up that blond piece by the bar."

_Oh you just try it, Imperialist! _Britta's derision comes loud and clear through the transmission. _I've got this Annie, just sit tight and whatever happens, don't let Jeff Winger seduce you. Foursquare and a hair color, Annie! That could be you._

The signal fizzes out with a hiss, and in the lull Annie finds herself completely alone for the first time all evening.

Well, not _completely _alone. Someone has just sat in Duncan's chair.

"Ouch," says Jeff. "Should have tried Canada. I hear his kind are welcome there."

"Brits?"

"Shrinks."

Annie doesn't get the joke, and figures as a physician she probably knows more about psychology than a mysterious guy at a bar, but so far this conversation is more interesting than Duncan's. "Where's your friend with the wager?"

"Oh, there's no friend. I just hate that guy."

"Wait, you know each other?"

"Ian Duncan? A colleague of mine got him off light for a DUI. Not the greatest contribution to American immigration. Sorry for interrupting your date, but I could feel the awkwardness from three sections away."

His voice sounds like a talk show host, specifically the kind who would date models, make fun of reality TV stars, and buy apps for his car stereo. Plus, Britta said over the earpiece that he was handsome. Annie tries not to preen at the idea of an attractive man going to this much effort rescue her from blind date disaster, but she can't help a slight blush.

Still, Britta had said something about Foursquare...where is Britta?

From the bar, a loud command answers Annie's question: "SAY ANOTHER WORD TO ME AND I WILL DEPRIVE YOU OF TEETH!"

Smiling in the general direction of her new acquaintance, Annie says, "I think my friend's ready to go. You still owe me for the taxi."

"What the—Is that Britta Perry strangling your date?" Bewilderment fills Jeff's voice. "I think... Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's the blond at my coffee shop."

"We go everywhere together," declares Annie, unable to hide her grin. "She's amazing."


	2. Paintball III

If season 4 has a paintball episode, this is how it should be.

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**Paintball III: Live by the Paint, Die by the Paint**

**.**

When June rolls around, the Greendale Seven know they have to do something special. Annie and Shirley are graduating, Jeff's been out in the real world for five months, and the four-year land mark has arrived.

So they decide to play paintball. A friendly game, to celebrate their journey together.

Of course, the Dean will never allow the campus to be destroyed again lest it risk his job "for REALSIES this time!", and no unaccountable conspiracies kick off a convenient contest of crazies. Without the necessary pretext, how will their hi-jinks unfold?

"Relax, Abed, I booked us a few hours at the paintball grounds out past the freeway," says Jeff, right before gifting them with yet another micro-speech about the importance of vice and violence in every true friendship.

That's how it goes down: the terrible day of revelations.

Just the seven of them, alone in the dark woods. Human hunting human. Every secret will be revealed, every dark temptation indulged. Every petty fight will rise to the surface no matter how loudly Troy screams about it. There will be betrayals and there will be alliances and maybe—okay—yes—someone _may _get a hickey.

The study group will learn, once and for all, who among them is truly the King of the Jungle.

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(Between the trees...under the dappled light...El Tigre is watching.)


	3. Precious Things

**NOTES**: For last season's prompt battle at M/M, here is a crossover with The Hunger Games.

No pairings, one-shot drabble, Britta/Jeff friendship.

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**Precious Things**

**.**

Jeffrey Winger had dedicated the last ten years to getting a spot in the power structure of the Hunger Games. All his family connections and all his training had worked toward one purpose: getting into the Gamemaker's personal staff. Now, at thirty three, he was a deputy for Seneca Crane.

That put him in the perfect position to save of life of an eighteen year old girl from District Four, name of Annie Edison.

The project was complicated, not the least because Seneca was a power-hungry assmonger who was far too close to the President. Recruiting him was out of the question, but the man's eagerness to succeed meant he could be subtly manipulated. At the same time, his unpopularity with his immediate staff mean that Jeff could recruit a few aides to his cause. He chose two women, a tech named Britta Perry and a promotions designer called Shirley Bennett. Each came with a price.

Britta wanted to stage their diversion in such a way that it would ruin the arena and the current control room, making this version of the games all the more embarrassing for the Capitol's brass. A secret dissident, Britta scouted him out before he even knew he needed her, and Jeff was relieved beyond belief to realize he wasn't alone in his mission.

Shirley's demand was far more costly: if he wanted to save Edison, he had to save Troy Barnes and Abed Nadir as well. Jeff didn't know them, and didn't particularly care if they died horrible, brutal deaths in the Games. But if he could fake one death he could fake three deaths, and without Shirley's help, the target would likely die before they could even get to her.

"Why do you want to save this one girl, anyway?" asked Britta on the roof of the training tower. It was one of the few places Jeff felt sure he wasn't under surveillance.

"I owe her grandfather my life," he replied, gripping the edge of the roof and examining their view of the Capitol. "And I want our dear _president _to feel what it's like to lose something precious to him. If it's three precious things, more the better."

Britta shook her head, the blue streak in her hair appearing brown in the low lit ambiance. "You know we're all going to die, right? You, me, and definitely the tributes."

"Of course." He dug out a cigarette and lit it, offering one to Britta. "I really, really hate this city."


	4. Sadie Hawkins Dance

Based on light SPOILERS for a future episode of season 4, regarding two school dances.

**Prompt**: Annie as a moe-style anime character, subverted. Also, Leonard is there.

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**Sadie Hawkins Dance**

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_[Insert Dramatic Camera Pan]_

Pressing down her skirt with sweaty palms, Annie scoped out the cafeteria. _Why isn't he here?_ she thought with a twitch in her cheek. Was it so much to ask that Jeff show up on time for once? She'd just resolved her own internal war over this whole escapade, the least he could do was make it a little easier.

"I'm wearing heels," Annie reminded herself as she scowled at the dance floor. Heels, hair, the whole banana split of dress up. He'd better show up, or she'd never forgive Abed for leading her into this.

"Your dress looks like a stick of butter," said the man beside her.

"Shut up Leonard," hissed Annie, sotto voce.

The old guy did the hoot-laugh thing he seemed believe people found charming, and pointed one rickety finger in her face. "You asked me here, toots. You wanna dance or you gonna stand around like a flat-footed Gidget?"

"Fine." Abed owed her so many bowls of pasta for this. She didn't even know what a gidget was, but definitely wouldn't mention that to Leonard. Annie made the mistake of asking about oldies stuff on the way to the dance, and he lied at least four times in his explanation.

Fifteen minutes later, and Annie was certain she'd have been better off asking the Dean on a date. At least the Dean wouldn't spend his time staring at her bust line. Digging her toes into the floor, she looked away from Leonard in his hideous green tuxedo and saw a welcome sight walk near the entry.

"Jeff!" The sun had risen, and her hero was here! Okay, well, her friend was here. But she'd call him a hero if he would just get the hell over here and save her from Von Lothbart . Wincing, Annie dragged her fingers out of Leonard's pincer grip and spun to face the six-foot-four man in the chic, steel gray suit. She trotted forward to bounce in front of him. Her lemon yellow dress fluttered around her knees, and the scarf at her neck wafted in the breeze from the fans spaced around the auditorium. She'd been going for classy Belle/Barbie, a look she thought she could pull off, and was conservatively calling it a win when Jeff's eyes zipped up and down at the sight of her.

"Hi Annie. Nice scarf." Despite her better instincts, Annie swooned. She didn't want to, she was supposed to be passed the swooning stage! They'd practiced in the Dreamatorium twice before it was dismantled. But not-swooning with Abed was considerably easier, especially since he didn't wear suits.

Jeff leaned forward, and Annie drew her breath in. Would they...?

He frowned. "Are you okay? Your ankle is twisting and your pupils are huge." He noticed Leonard coming up, and the frown became a scowl.

The geriatric hipster smacked his gums together. "You creepin' on my girl?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Leonard, can I have a minute? I'll join you at the snack table." He harrumphed, and waved her off. Annie smiled back at Jeff again. She tried to keep the swoon out of her next sentence, but it was hard. Jeff was wearing suspenders under his suit, and had done something old-fashioned with his tie.

"You came."

"Yeah. Um, have you seen Britta?"

POP! Annie's balloon deflated, and she put one hand on her waist. With the other, she pointed weakly across the cafeteria. Jeff looked in that direction, then with a flirtation nod-and-grin combination that passed for a Classic Winger exit, he walked off.

Annie folded her arms to watch. From the distance, she couldn't hear her friends over the music. It was like a puppet show, she just had to be Abed and pretend the voices.

**Jeff:** Britta! I'm so glad you're here. I need to stand beside you so our mutual good looks improve the hotness of the surrounding ten foot area. BY OUR POWERS COMBINED... have a drink!

**Britta:** Jeff, you are a pig who wears too many suits. I'm busy dancing with Troy, who is a much younger man than yourself, and have graduated above your petty charades.

**Jeff:** I'm smiling because you still want to bang me, not that I'd notice because since coming to Greendale I've become immune to women who want me, even if they dress up and twist their foot shyly and stare adoringly into my eyes.

**Troy:** Hey man, you look good and I want to grow up to be just like you, except nicer, and with a sidekick. It's totally okay for you to ogle my girlfriend while I stand here and get ignored, because I'm not supposed to develop character this season.

**Britta:** You didn't come to my other dance, Jeff you jerk! You have once again failed to lend your support to the feminist movement. Luckily Troy saved me with his plumbing power. Innuendo achieved.

**Jeff:** A lack of support what I'm known for. Wait, I have to go, I just remembered I'm too cool to talk to my friends or save them from having to escort Grumpy Old Men to unnecessary dances.

The group split again, with Jeff heading off to somewhere in the back while Troy bowed elegantly over Britta's hand. She tittered as if he were the first guy to do so, and they swanned off into the dance floor. Annie had no idea where Shirley and Pierce were.

"It's easier to just write the script for them, isn't it?"

Annie glanced at Abed, now standing to her right with a lemonade in hand. She kept her arms folded. "I don't understand what your game plan was supposed to achieve, Abed. I look like a stick of butter and Jeff thought I was on drugs."

Abed nodded. "I saw. I should have known you can't force googly-eyes. We'll do better next time."

"And why was it so important that I bring Leonard?" Annie hissed the next words to convey her distress: "He kept trying to pet my arm hair."

"This is easier with Troy," said Abed, then sucked some of his lemonade through the straw.

Annie stomped one heel on the cafeteria floor. It wasn't very loud, though. And it made her feet hurt even more. "Well I'm not Troy. So help me! You're the one who said Jeff was ready for something and all I had to do was show up."

"I can fix this," said Abed. He held up two fingers, and closed his eyes. Annie waited.

And kept waiting.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. "Abed!"

"I'm thinking... okay, got it. Stay here."

"What's the plan?" Annie tried to ask, but her skinny friend had contrived to vanish behind a person in a Dalmatian suit. The Dalmatian reached out and casually offered its hand.

"Um... thank you, but no," said Annie with a desperately polite smile. "I came with someone."

It gave her a double thumbs up. Annie shuddered and idly considered taking off her heels. Where was...

"Leonard!"


	5. Episode 12: IDENTITIES UNFOLDED

**Prompt**: Life as anime characters for the Greendale Seven.

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**Greendale Anime, Episode 12: **

**IDENTITIES UNFOLDED, EYES AWAKENED!**

**.**

"Jeff... I have to tell you the truth! For beautiful dream justice, you have to know."

"Know what, Annie?"

"I'm...I'm the Greendale Sky Princess. I heal people with the power of empathy and determination!"

"No, _you're_ the Sky Princess! This whole time? Annie... I'm the Devil Rocket, We're enemies. Opposed forever. Believe it."

"Noooooooooo! In the name of beautiful dream justice, it can't be true."

"GUYS! GUYS! STOP SPARKLING AT EACH OTHER! GUYS!"

"For kami's sake, what is it, Troy?! I'm trying to recruit the Sky Princess to the side of the Neververse. Can't you feel my warrior's killer intent?"

"GUYS SHUT UP AND LOOK AT THIS."

"Oh my god, Troy, is that a robot? Is...is it working for the Neververse? Or for the side of good?"

"I DON'T THINK IT CARES, ANNIE. IT'S A _ROBOT_. AND IT'S MINE! COOL, RIGHT? LOOK, I JUST HOP IN THE TOP HERE, AND I'M LIKE TONY STARK IN IRON MAN TWO. THERE'S DIGITAL READOUTS REFLECTING ON MY FACE, AND I CAN BLOW UP BUILDINGS. HEY...I WONDER IF I CAN GO INTO SPACE?"

"Cool, Troy. The Neververse would like to buy it."

"No, you can't sell it to Jeff! He's the Devil Rocket, and he's been brainwashed by the Neververse. YOU were destined to have that robot and fight for the side of good to destroy the Neververse and stop them from taking people's heartpebbles."

"LIKE A MISSION, ANNIE? BITCHIN'. YOU POINT, I'LL BLOW IT UP."

"That doesn't really seem like beautiful dream justice..."

"HEY WHAT DOES THIS BU—"


	6. no sweeping exits or off-stage lines

Annie, gen, group.

**Prompt**: there's a knot in my chest

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**no sweeping exits or off-stage lines**

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Behind the doctor, sunlight glows so bright it hurts the eye. White slats fracture the incoming rays, splitting them into little spears of gold that arc over the woman in a white coat and punch straight through Annie Edison.

There's a knot in your chest, says the doctor; the blinds sway in the window while she talks.

Am I going to die?

There's a knot, right here, the doctor explains, and it takes root in the bloodstream. We have something we'd like to try, to nip the blossom while its still a bud.

Annie closes her eyes, and the doctor disappears.

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We love you, says her mother, and Annie opens her eyes to a pair of strangers.

It's gray outside, soft light that doesn't burn. Annie turns over on her hospital bed, face to the widow.

I want my friends, she tells the stranger. I don't want you.

There's a knot, she explains to the crowd of broken faces. Evening light washes over them, a rainbow of color and dreams and so many chances seized.

Her fingers drift to the collar of her hospital gown. It's in my chest, right here, and it's sending out roots and when it's done I'm going to be a tree.

This elicits protest, a chorus up and down until it fills the room with song: But you're my favorite. This isn't fair, we were supposed to be better friends and now you're leaving. I'm praying for you honey. I don't want this show anymore, it's sad all the time. How can we make it better? Don't go.

Annie squeezes the beige blanket in her fist and says, I love you guys, you know that, right? I love you and I want to stay. I have to stay! I just got started.

.

She wakes up, in the moments between, and there's a man in her room. He's in the chair set aside for guests, and his face is bowed between his knees. His hands hide his eyes from the dull emissions of the overhead fluorescents. She watches him cry without a sound and Annie knows she should be touched, but all she can think is, Shut up, shut up, it's my heart. You don't get to cry over it.

Don't go, says the man in the chair. I'm not ready for you to go yet.

It's always about you, isn't it? Her voice is a flutter, a whisper of breaths in the gloomy atmosphere.

He puts his hand over hers, too little too late. Stick around, and I'll be better.

Liar.

The sheets are rough against her cheek; her eyes slip closed again.

.

There's no sunlight in here, just white blazes and red dots and green lines.

I'm going to be a world famous detective, she tells the nurse who asks her to count backward.

Ten, nine, eight.

I'm going to fall in love.

Seven, six.

I'm going to tell—


End file.
